Friends Don't Let Friends Walk Home Drunk
by tardisblues
Summary: After one too many drinks, Korra helps a drunk Mako get back home.


**A/N:** I wrote this little piece of nonsense in response to a prompt over on the ficbending livejournal. If you haven't checked it out yet, you should. There is some truly amazing work posted there, and so many unfilled prompts!

* * *

Strong as she was, it was still difficult for Korra to support Mako's weight as she helped him walk down the street. It didn't help that he was hardly focused on the task at hand – which was getting him back to the attic and into his bed before he passed out cold. No, he was too focused on the bustling city around them, his golden eyes wide, almost as though he had never seen the city before.

"Look at that!" he exclaimed, throwing his arm out and pointing at something Korra couldn't see. The movement was unexpected and she tripped, nearly losing their balance completely. Luckily, there was a car parked close to the curb and she was able to lean her hip against it to prevent them from falling.

"Yeah," grunted Korra as she struggled against gravity. "It's really something."

Mako looked down at her, his nose wrinkled in distaste. "You didn't even _look_."

Korra sighed, doing her best not to lose her temper. It had been funny at the start; watching Mako trip over his own feet and listening to him slur his words as he described his evening to her was extremely entertaining. So funny that he'd mocked her snorting laugh for almost three blocks before he saw something shiny across the street, a billboard with blinking lights. Now, with her bruised hip and aching shoulder and the stench of his horrible breath filling her nose – now it was irritating.

But even still, she couldn't get mad at him when the streetlights were reflected in his eyes and his lips were quirked into a smile – a disappointed smile, yes, but a smile nonetheless. "That's because your big head was in the way," she replied, using her free hand to bop him on the nose.

He pulled a face. "My head's not big," Mako grumbled as he reached up to feel the side of his face. A frown wobbled on his lips, and it disappeared as soon as he dropped his hand.

Korra laughed, gently kicking the back of his heel so he would move. Surprisingly, it worked. "If that's what you think."

Quick as a metal whip, Mako spun away from her. His circle was clumsy at best and he nearly fell over as his feet tangled together, but he threw his arm out, grabbing a lamppost for purchase and somehow managed to sturdy himself. When he faced her, there was a serious look on his face, but the haze of his intoxication lingered in his eyes, lending them a softer, almost more vulnerable light. It was as unnerving as it was inviting.

"That's actually not what I think," he said, in a surprisingly clear voice.

"Of course you wouldn't think your own head is big," Korra responded, a loose smile pulling at her lips as she grabbed him by the elbow and steered him down the street. The salty brine of the sea lingered in the wind; they were getting closer to the arena now. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't the least bit relieved. "No one likes admitting to their arrogance. Well," she added, her brow puckering as she frowned, "Tahno does, but that's because –"

"Tahno's a jerk," finished Mako, giving an over exaggerated nod of his head, his eyes crisscrossing slightly. He closed his eyes then, like he was trying to regain his grip on reality which, given the amount of alcohol he had consumed, he probably was. Gently, he swayed to the side.

"Yeah," Korra agreed, drawing up next to him. Her body was tense and at the ready should he suddenly collapse in a drunken heap.

He didn't fall over, but he did open his eyes. When he did, Mako pinned her with a very serious look. "You know who's not a jerk?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Who?"

"Me," Mako answered, his response taking her by surprise.

"I know you're not a –"

He stumbled towards her and she backed away, but he threw out a hand and caught himself on her shoulder. Korra planted her feet into the ground, nearly balking under the sudden addition of his weight. They were close now and even closer when he angled his chin downward to look at her. His eyes were darker now, his pupils just a little smaller as he regarded her with that same serious expression he usually wore, though the line of his brow was looser, his mouth more relaxed. There was something decidedly earnest about his face. She couldn't look away.

"Do you really, though?" Mako questioned, tilting his head slightly. His words ran together and the alcohol on his breath permeated the air between them. If she wasn't so intrigued, she would have pushed him away and gagged. As it stood, she found herself incapable of moving – mostly because he was still leaning the majority of his weight against her, but also because he hadn't broken their eye contact.

"Y-yeah," she breathed, a slight tremble to her words as she placed her hands on his chest, prepared to put a little more space between them. "Of course I do. I mean, the guy who raised Bolin can't be that bad, right?"

Mako's eyes narrowed and he stared at her for a long, hard second before he laughed. And it wasn't his typical ironic chuckle that made her scowl at him. No, it was the sort of laugh that started deep in his belly and worked its way up until it rumbled in his chest, shook his shoulders, and burst out of his mouth in a sudden exhalation of mirth. Her hands all but vibrated as the force of his laughter resonated in her palms, trailing up her arm and down her spine and settling somewhere deeper.

"Oh, Korra," Mako sighed, his words broken by trails of laughter. He unwound his arms from where they'd been laced loosely around her waist and backed away. "You would bring Bolin into this."

As he started down the street, swerving to the left as he walked, Korra frowned at his back. "What's that supposed to mean?" she called after him, pushing away from the lamppost and hurrying after him.

He didn't stop, but he did turn around mid step to face her. Unfortunately, he didn't account for his own weight and nearly threw himself off balance again, but Korra was at his side a moment later, catching him by the arm and steadying him.

"It means that everyone and their mother and dads prefer Bolin to me," he slurred in a rush, trying to shake off her hand. "And it's fine, really," he added once he saw the signs of protest on her face. "No, really, it is. I mean, if I weren't me, I'd prefer Bolin to me." Mako laughed to himself, and there was a slightly bitter tinge to his laughter. "And even if I am me –"

"Which you are."

"Which I am," agreed Mako, a few giggles slipping through his lips before he managed to reel them in. "Even if I am Mako, I prefer Bolin to me. He's so funny and witty and charming and adorable and apparently, really fucking fantastic at sex because Spirits, you should hear the sounds that come out of his room. Like holy shit, Korra," Mako continued, tripping over his tongue but somehow managing to put emphasis on all the right words. "You'd think he was…I don't know, you'd think he was you or something."

If she had been drinking something, she would have spat it out. "_What_?"

"No, I didn't mean like you like you, I mean, like," Mako trailed off, flapping his hands in her face. "Fuck, I don't know what I meant. But seriously, Korra," he persisted, his eyes wide and penetrating. "It's loud and breathy and sometimes –"

"Okay!" Korra interrupted, not wanting to know the rest of that sentence. "Now that I know that Bolin's the best Republic City's got to offer –"

"He really is," Mako insisted. "He's the greatest. The best of the best." He swiveled his head towards Korra and grinned lopsidedly. Her heart didn't skip a beat, but she felt a pang in her chest as she watched his face. "He's the bestest." The grin slackened as he added, "And how can I compare to that?"

At a loss for words, Korra reached out to touch his shoulder or maybe his hand, but she ended up with his elbow once again. "Mako…"

"No," he cut in, with a shake of his head before she could get a word in edgewise. "I don't want that."

"Don't want what?"

"Your pity. I don't want it and I don't need it. I never have."

"I'm not pitying you…"

He snorted. "Oh, you're not?"

"No," she replied tersely, retracting her hand. "I'm not. I was just trying to be a good friend and make you feel better, but I guess –"

"You think we're friends?" Mako interjected again, a slightly dumbstruck expression on his face. Coupled with the lingering haze of intoxication in his eyes and the way his lips were parted slightly, he almost looked adorable.

Almost being the keyword.

"Yes." She folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "Why, don't you think we are?"

"It's not that," Mako said, using the back of his hand to itch his nose. "I just didn't think that you thought of me as your friend. I thought you –"

"Hated you?"

Mako was silent for a moment, his shoulders hunched as he hung his head. "Well…yeah. I mean, I'd hate me too if I was you."

"Why would I hate you?"

He lifted his head just enough so that he could look her in the eye. "Because I'm a jerk."

"No you're –" At the sight of his doubtful expression, Korra backtracked. "Okay fine. So maybe you _were_ a jerk when I first met you, but you're not one now. Well," she added as an afterthought. "Not most of the time, anyway. You can still be one from time to time, but so can everyone else."

Mako's gaze lingered on her for a prolonged moment, a thoughtful furrow marring his brow. When he spoke, Korra thought it would be something deep and meaningful, mostly because his expression suggested that it would be, but then a wide grin split his lips so far, his eyes crinkled and another laugh escaped him. "Especially you."

"What?" Korra shouted, outraged. "I am_ not_ a jerk!" Placing her hands on either of his shoulders, she gave him a hard shove – a shove that knocked the slowly sobering idiot right off his feet. Before she could reach out to him, Mako was flat on his back on the pavement. "Shit!" She dropped down to her knees, expecting him to howl in pain only to find that he was laughing.

Korra stared at Mako, her expression one of reserved curiosity. Her hands hovered inches over his body should he suddenly decide that it was no longer the most hilarious thing that'd ever happened to him and that his tail bone really _did_ hurt.

Except that Mako showed no signs of stopping.

If anything, his laughter only increased once he opened his eyes long enough to catch sight of Korra's expression. As soon as he did, however, his eyes screwed up and he was laughing again, all but rolling around on the pavement. Thankfully the streets weren't packed with pedestrians otherwise they would have most certainly gotten in trouble.

"Apparently I missed something," Korra said to no one in particular.

At the sound of her voice, Mako opened his eyes from which tears were streaming. "You – you said – you –" he wheezed before his words gave way to another bout of laughter.

She sighed. What was cute at first was getting more than a little annoying. Funny how that seemed to happen with everything in regards to Mako. As soon as she thought that, Korra frowned. Perhaps that's what he was talking about…

"You said," Mako managed to say around his laughter, "that you weren't a jerk and then – then you pushed me and now I can – I can't - _I can't breathe_."

Unblinkingly, Korra stared down the length of her nose at him, understanding the irony of it, but not quite grasping why he found it so hilarious. But then she took into consideration how much he'd had to drink and the somewhat ridiculous nature of the whole scenario and she couldn't help cracking a small smile.

"I'm glad I could make you laugh," Korra deadpanned as Mako pushed himself to his elbows, still giggling. "Are you done now or do you need another minute or two?"

"What I need is a bed," Mako informed her in a rather matter-of-factly voice. He held out his gloved hand to her, wiggling his fingers invitingly. Obliging him, Korra slipped her hand into his and hauled him to his feet. It was a good sign when she didn't carry the brunt of his weight. His hand lingered in hers as his fingertips journeyed over the ridges of her knuckles. She expected him to say something then, but then his entire body lurched forwards, he dropped her hand to clamp his own over his mouth, and he doubled over, the stream of his vomit narrowly avoiding her boots.

A sigh of disappointment escaped her as Korra placed her hand on Mako's back and began to rub soothing circles. "And a shower," she said, wrinkling her nose as the smell of his vomit wafted back at her, overpowering even the scent of the briny air.

He tried to speak, but vomit replaced words.

Korra nearly gagged. "Oh Spirits, that's nasty." Still, she persisted to rub his back the way her mom used to when she was sick. A fond smile touched her lips – and then he puked again. Thankfully, that seemed to be the end of it as Mako slowly straightened up, causing her hand to slide down the length of his back until it rested just above the band of his trousers.

A long, miserable groan escaped him as she tightened her grip on his waist, dragging his other arm around her neck. He leaned his forehead against the crown of her head and sighed, "Thanks, Korra."

As they started once more down the street, she gave his hand, which was dangling over her shoulder, a brief squeeze. "That's what friends are for, right? Come on," she continued, turning the corner and heading towards the arena. "Let's get you home."


End file.
